


Observing Alexander

by MusicalMichael



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex needs a hug, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - High School, George is a proud dad, John's dad sucks, Trans!Alexander, nonbinary!lafayette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21756049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalMichael/pseuds/MusicalMichael
Summary: A series of one-shots. You know the drill. Foster kid Alex, George Washingdad, John is painfully gay. This has been on my tumblr for about three years, so if you've seen it before, that'll be where.
Relationships: George Washington/Martha Washington
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	1. Observing Alexander- July 25th 2010

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George Washington doesn't want to scare the kid, so he waits for Alex to come to him. And eventually, he does.

George was two hours deep in highly dull senate-related paperwork when his office door opened, the head of his foster son peeking in.

“Oh, sorry.” Alexander said hurriedly, moving to leave.

“No, it’s alright.” George replied, seeing a bonding opportunity here.

“Are you sure? I knocked, but you didn’t answer, so I thought I’d check to see if you’re in here and you are and you’re busy, so-”

“Alexander, it’s fine.” George reassured him. “Although it might be better if you didn’t resemble a disembodied head.” He chuckled.

Alexander’s cheeks darkened, and he stepped fully into the room, though he didn’t close the door. Perhaps he wanted an easy escape, as George had noticed he liked to be the closest to the exit in any given situation.

George put down his pen and stretched, feeling the effects of being hunched over a desk for several hours so much more now than in his younger years.

“Was there anything you needed?” He asked, hoping to put Alexander, who was now picking at the skin around his electric blue nails, at ease.

“I um… I ran out of books to read, and Laf said that you let them borrow yours, so I was just wondering if I could maybe borrow one? If that’s okay with you of course.”

“Certainly.” George gestured to the many bookshelves lining the walls of his office. “Take your pick. I can’t promise that you’ll find anything you’ll like, but feel free to take a look.”

Alexander’s face lit up in much the same way as it had when he’d first been shown the office. He took a tentative step forward, then made a beeline for the shelf behind Laf’s favourite armchair, letting the door swing shut behind him. After a few seconds of hungrily scanning the shelf, he paused and turned to look at George.

“Thank you.” He said. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“It’s not a problem. I think, if you hadn’t come in when you did, I’d have gone mad from too much paperwork.”

This made Alexander laugh, exactly as George had hoped it would. Putting the boy at ease around him was his priority right now. As Alexander turned back around to peruse George’s extensive collection of books, George took the opportunity to watch him. The boy moved quietly, which was odd for someone of his age, and kept pausing to push the sleeves of his dark green sweater up to his elbows. That couldn’t be his sweater could it? It was much too big, slipping off his shoulder enough to show Alexander’s sports bra, but better quality than anything else he had brought with him. And if George’s memory was serving him correctly, he could have sworn he’d seen Lafayette wearing it… It occurred to him that Alexander was wearing Lafayette’s clothes, and was very comfortable doing so by the looks of things. George couldn’t help but think this was a good sign.

George watched as Alexander’s shoulders lowered a little. He realised that he should probably get back to work and stop staring at his foster son, but some part of him was fascinated by every move he made. Alexander reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear every few seconds, having seemingly given up on pushing his sleeves up, and the gesture struck George as being so vulnerable, almost childlike, that it made a not insignificant swell of paternal affection rise in him.

Alexander reached out towards a book, his hand stopping just before he touched it, then turned to look at George, who hurriedly looked down and pretended to read the document on his desk once more. By the time George glanced back up, Alexander had slid the book off the shelf and was reading the back of it intently, his brow furrowed. It was perhaps redundant to refer to Alexander as doing anything intently, seeing as he did everything that way. It was one of the first things George had noticed upon meeting Alexander Hamilton; the way he spoke with such purpose, his dark eyes daring George to challenge him. “My name is Alexander Hamilton, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He had said, hand extended, back straight as a flagpole. George did wonder why Alexander had become nervous since leaving New York two weeks ago, but he supposed that the boy had at least somewhat known how things worked there, whereas here everything was unfamiliar. After all, bravado at a first meeting was easy to fake.

George sighed quietly and decided to get back to work, picking his pen back up and reading the horrifically dull document from the beginning again.

“Can I borrow this?” He heard Alexander ask.

“Of course you can.” George replied, looking back up and giving his foster son a reassuring smile. The book Alexander was holding was one of George’s favourites, and one he never would have read if Martha hadn’t started reading it to him after he woke up from nightmares about the men he sent to their deaths. The Lord Of The Rings probably wasn’t the best thing to read to a mentally scarred war vet, but for some reason it worked for him. Maybe it was just the fact that it was Martha reading it.

“You can borrow anything you like.” He continued.

Alexander smiled, a small quirk of the lips that George almost didn’t catch. “Thank you.” He said, pausing awkwardly before moving back towards the door.

“You can stay.” George near blurted out. “If you want.”

Alexander stopped and turned, looking a little lost, his grip on the book tight enough that the skin of his fingers looked a little pale.

“You don’t have to, but you should know that Lafayette says that armchair,” George gestured to the old armchair, which had been in his office since he and Martha moved in, with his thumb. "is the comfiest thing they have ever sat on.“

This made Alexander smile again, and he sat in the chair carefully, as though he were scared that it would break. His shocked expression as he sank further into it than he anticipated made George laugh quietly.

"I never warn people about that.” He said mischievously.

“I bet it’s highly entertaining.” Alexander shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course.”

Alexander rolled his eyes as he made himself comfortable and opened his borrowed book.

George looked down at his paperwork, internally groaning at the sheer amount of it. Surely he could come back to it tomorrow? Sadly, it couldn’t wait much longer, and the sooner he got it done, the sooner he appeased the crabby old republican senators. As he worked, he heard Alexander turning the pages of George’s book every so often, at a much faster pace than he expected. The Lord Of The Rings was a difficult book to get through, but it sounded as though Alexander was positively steaming through it. It must have been an hour later when George chanced a glance in Alexander’s direction, his heart melting a little as he caught the boy stifling a yawn in Lafayette’s sweater sleeve, which had fallen over his hand at some point. He’d curled up in the armchair, and was sinking further into it by the second, almost dropping the book.

Maybe it was time for George to take the opportunity he had been given to make Alexander sleep for once. He waited a few minutes, scanning through yet another document for lack of anything better to do, until the page-turning slowed down, and then finally, it stopped. George looked up again. The book was lying on Alexander’s chest, and he had slumped into a position that looked less than comfortable.

George stood up, stretching again as he did while trying to ignore how his back popped, and checked the clock on the wall behind him. 6 pm. Well, he could always get Martha to save a plate for Alexander, determined to get the boy to sleep for more than an hour at a time. As quietly as he could, he made his way over to the armchair, crouching down in front of it. Alexander’s eyes were closed, he was breathing deeply.

“Alexander?”

Alexander didn’t wake, causing George to weigh the pros and cons of picking him up and moving him. The question was, did Alexander trust him enough to allow him to do so?

“Alexander?” He repeated, gently putting a hand on the sleeping boy’s shoulder. The boy still did not stir, prompting George to stand up, bemoaning the creaking of his knees, and grab the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. Turning back to Alexander, he was struck all of a sudden by how very young and yet simultaneously old he looked. Lafayette’s overlarge sweater lay in jarring contrast to Alexander’s furrowed brow, frowning and tense even in unconsciousness. If George looked closely, he could see Alexander’s eyes moving beneath his closed lids, as his fingers twitched every few seconds, even further evidence towards George’s theory. Alexander never stopped thinking, never stopped working.George was sure that, given time, the boy would become a non-stop whirlwind of grand ideas and passion.

George’s job, he thought as he laid the blanket over his still-twitching foster son, was to help Alexander mold these qualities into something he could use, not only to make people sit up and notice him (something he was more than proficient at already), but as a force for good, a force for change. And on top of that, how to do so without burning out.

He just hoped he was up to the challenge.


	2. Extremes- April 6th 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laf and Herc get worried. Alex isn't sure why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: talk of suicide and suicidal ideation.

“Have you ever thought that maybe you’re a little prone to extremes?” Herc asked, clearly trying to be gentle with the frazzled genius before him. Alexander, the frazzled genius in question, raised an eyebrow, thinking that this sounded an awful lot like an intervention.

“I’m a lot more self-aware than people think.” He said, sounding almost cryptic for the first time in his life.

“Then could you be aware that there are things in between polar opposites?” Laf took over, fixing Alexander with a glare over her fries. Alexander was now certain that this was intervention, and wished John was there to make the others back off.

“What makes you think I’m not? There is something in between overconfident and suicidal, I just don’t know how to get there.” He shrugged, aware of this fault of his.

It was only a second later that he regretted his words, when Laf and Herc gave each other a look of alarm. Their heads whipped back over to him.

“Woah, woah,” Herc spit out, cheeseburger dropping onto it’s wrapper, forgotten. “Who said anything about suicidal?”

Alexander nibbled at his lip, then caught himself and picked up a fry, chewing on that instead. “Ah… I see that I’ve said too much.” He didn’t meet anyone’s eye, mentally kicking himself while simultaneously forming an argument. “It’s not a big deal-”

“Not a big-” Laf started to say, far too loud, but Herc caught her eye and she stopped short.

“It isn’t.” Alexander insisted, shrugging and bringing the hand that wasn’t fiddling with the fries box up onto the table in an attempt to stop picking at the hole in his jeans. “It’s not like it’s a huge secret either. Honestly, I thought it was normal until a couple of months ago.”

“And that is supposed to make it better, hmm?” Laf said acidly.

Alexander shook his head. He picked at the skin around his nails. “I didn’t try to do anything, didn’t even particularly want to.” He could sense Laf and Herc’s confusion even as he avoided their eyes, focusing instead on the bit of skin stubbornly staying attached to his finger. “I just thought about death a lot, wondered when I would die, listed the ways I could die if I was… I dunno, walking home from school. I could get hit by a bus, something could fall out of a window and hit me on the head. Like fuckin Looney Tunes.” Alexander huffed out a laugh, noticing Laf’s hands twisting a napkin to shreds. “And yeah, I sometimes thought everything would be easier if I died, but I never tried anything.”

The skin ripped away, taking more than Alexander was aiming for and leaving stinging in it’s wake. A painful reminder of forgetting what he’d been taught.

“I do it for other people too. Especially if they’re late for something. I’ll think that they’ve been shot or stabbed or gotten sick, and I won’t really think that any of that has happened, but I’ll accept it as a possibility, I’ll worry about it. I figured that was normal, ya know?”

Alexander glanced up at his friend and foster sibling and got the feeling, for the millionth time in the past few months, that this was very much not normal. Lafayette, ever dramatic, her eyes bugging out, in contrast to Herc, whose face showed nothing of what he was feeling. Master of the poker face indeed.

“But apparently people don’t think the way I do.” Alexander thought for a few seconds, revelling a little in thinking hard about his words before he spoke them. It wasn’t something he really did outside of debates, and he didn’t want this to be a debate. The novelty of it made him think harder, wanting to end up with a thought that was worthy of the moment. He briefly thought that he was too aware of when a moment should be.

“I imagine death so much it feels like a memory.” He said quietly. “And I can’t help but wonder when it’s gonna get me.”


	3. In Which George Washington Is Somewhat Unsurprised- March 11th 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George wasn't snooping, but he does find out something that Alex was keen to hide...

If George hadn’t been used to stumbling upon strange things happening in his house at six am, the sight of Lafayette dressed up in a very snazzy sweater and bow-tie combo, leaning against the wall outside Alexander’s room would have been enough to unnerve him. As it was, it did make him pause, hidden in the shadows, just around the corner.

“I dunno about this Laf…” Came Alexander’s muffled voice through his closed door. “Are you sure this’ll look good?”

Lafayette made a face.

“I swear petit frere, you will look amazing. As you always do when I dress you.”

George, watching all this play out, found himself being highly amused, if a little confused as to what exactly his two children were dressing up for. Also, Alexander wasn’t known for being insecure about his appearance, if anything he was known for not caring about it at all.

“I look stupid!” Alexander whined. Again, this was unusual. George swore that the boy spent most of his waking hours in PJ’s. Or yoga pants. Most days, he didn’t even wear his binder if he wasn’t planning on leaving the house.

“Alexander Hamilton, if you try to make that outfit any more casual, I will cancel this meeting.” Lafayette snapped, pushing off the wall and glaring at the door. George decided it was time to step in and perhaps get some answers. Laf could get nasty when pushed too far, and that would most likely push Alexander too far as well.

“What meeting is this, and why does Alexander think he looks stupid?” He asked quietly, stepping out of the shadows. Laf, finally noticing his presence, gained a look of abject horror.

“Um…” They knocked on Alexander’s door, seemingly unable to look away from George. “You might want to get out here.” They said weakly.

“Why, so you can laugh at how terrible I look? I don’t see why I have to dress up in a fucking monkey suit anyway.” George had the fleeting thought that he should go and get ALexander some coffee, because by the sound of his irritated voice, he hadn’t had any yet. “It’s a meeting with a publisher, not tea with the queen of England.”

This… did not surprise George as much as it probably should have. Of course publishers were interested in Alexander, he was the greatest writer of his age that George had ever had the pleasure of reading. The seventeen year old was much better than many adults too. The drivel that was published nowadays… George was certain that Alexander would soon blow it all out of the water.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Laf apprehensively saying,

“Alexander…”

George stifled a yawn. He had only meant to go to the bathroom, not stumble upon some secretive plot.

“What?” The door was thrown open, revealing an angry, half-dressed Alexander. His shirt was untucked, his tie messily half-done, and he only had one shoe on. Before George could say anything, Lafayette blurted out a surprisingly venomous,

“Alexander, you are not wearing beer-stained Vans. Do you want to make a good impression or not?”

Unfortunately for Lafayette, their words went ignored as Alexander stared, wide-eyed, at George.

“How much of that did you hear?” He asked, sounding disappointed and almost sheepish. Which was ridiculous, because Alexander had never sound remorseful in his life.

“Enough to wonder when you got yourself in a position where publishers are interested in you.” George replied mildly.

Alexander rubbed the back of his neck, then shot Laf a glare that would make weaker person faint. Lafayette, however, had long since been proven to be made of sturdier stuff. They glared back, examining their flawless nails disdainfully, playfully. At least, George hoped it was playful. He had never quite got the hang of reading Lafayette, Martha was much better at it. While George had been pondering this, the two had apparently resolved their quarrel, because Alexander said,

“Doesn’t matter.” George internally sighed. “George, could you please tell Lafayette that don’t need to dress up for this?”

“Could you please tell Alexander that dressing like a failed grunge musician will not get him anywhere?”

Or not. George looked between the two of them, both so different yet so similar, and perhaps it was the early hour, or the fire in Alexander’s eyes, or Lafayette’s judging eyes on their scruffy looking brother, but George suddenly could not stop himself from laughing. Lafayette and Alexander sent each other panicked looks, but the situation George had found himself in was just too funny. Oh the things those two didn’t see; not least how very much George loved the both of them.

“You broke him.” Alexander shot, deadpan, at Lafayette.

“I broke him?” Lafayette sputtered. “You’re the one who dropped the publisher bomb on him, petit frere.”

“I’m not little!” Alexander shouted as George’s laughter died down, surely waking Martha up.

“Alex-” George started to speak, to tell Alexander to be quiet, but Laf spoke over him. This seemed to be happening a lot lately.

“You know Alexander, I did some calculations, and do you know what I figured out? Connais tu?”

Now this, George could read. Lafayette was an expert in riling Alexander up enough for him to forget his nerves.

“What?” Alexander nearly growled, his eyes flashing.

“I figured out that you’re full of shit.”

“Well I just figured out that you’re a filthy little backstabber who didn’t keep watch for George like I asked you to.”

Alexander’s hackles were well and truly raised, and George sent a look to Laf. Enough. They nodded back, and stayed silent, merely looking smug.

“Alexander,” George said calmly. “Why was Lafayette supposed to keep watch?”

“Because I didn’t want you to know!” The messily dressed boy complained, looking truly distraught. “I was gonna tell you when I actually got an offer. I wanted to surprise you…” Alexander fiddled with his sleeve, the fire in his eyes dying down.

Oh Alexander… George’s heart swelled up to at least three times its usual size.

“It would never have surprised me.” He said.

Alexander’s face was the very picture of shock.

“Did you already know? How?”

“I didn’t.” George explained. “What I do know is that you are immensely talented and skilled, and that your mind is an amazing thing.” There was really more to it than that, but at six am, George could not be relied upon to put anything more into words. That was Alexander’s job. That was the entire reason they were having this conversation. “I have every faith in you, and that they’ll give you an offer. Do you want a ride there?”

“I mean, if you don’t mind.” Alexander said, trying and failing not to blush.

“Of course I don’t mind. Get dressed and tell me what time you want to leave.” George waited for Alexander’s nod before going back to his and Martha’s room, where he was distinctly unsurprised to see his wife sitting up in bed and rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

“What was all the shouting about?” She yawned, as he leaned down to give her a quick kiss.

“Alexander has a meeting with a publisher. I’ll probably never say this to him, you know what he’s like, but I’m so proud of him.”

George was even more proud when, a month later, Alexander got offered a contract by a prominent publisher in his circle of writing.

“Well done.” He murmured into Alexander’s ear, getting an excited grin in return.


	4. Use Your Words- February 26th 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets into a fight.

Alexander winced as his mother cleaned the cut on his forehead, kicking his heels against the bathroom cabinet below him. He had definitely come out worse in the scuffle that happened in the hall at school.

“How did this happen, Cariño?” She asked, gently dabbing at the blood.

“A buncha big kids were calling me weird and stupid. I’m not stupid.” Alexander pouted, rather affronted at the slight. His mother chuckled, putting a roughened hand on his cheek.

“You’re so very far from stupid, little one. And you’re not weird either.”

“Everyone says I am. Everyone says my name’s not really Alexander, but mamá, Alexander is the name you gave me, right? So it’s gotta be my name.”

His mother sighed and reached to grab a bandaid. As she unwrapped it she spoke, sounding agitated. Alexander’s teacher said that he didn’t really know what agitated meant, but he did. He looked it up in the dictionary and everything, just to be sure. But still… If even his teacher thought he was stupid and weird, then he had to be. Teachers should know everything. Ever.

“People don’t understand little boys like you, Cariño.”

“I’m not little.” Alexander protested.

“Of course you’re not.” His mother smiled, but Alexander knew that she was just pretending to believe him. He noticed things like that. His mother smoothed the bandaid over the cut, making him wince again, and tucked his hair behind his ear. “Alexander, can you do something very important for me?”

“Of course, mamá.” He’d do anything for her.

“Can you try not to get into any more fights? I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

Alexander frowned. He’d do anything except that for her. “But how else am I gonna stop people from being mean?”

“You have a lot of big words, my Alexander, you can use them to defend yourself.”

He thought for a moment. He didn’t really like getting punched, and he did like talking circles around his friend Ned. Maybe using his words would work.

“And you.” Alexander replied, mind made up. “I can use them to defend you too.”

His mother laughed and kissed the top of his head.

“Oh mijo, what did I do to deserve you, my little genius.”

“I’m not little!”


	5. The Senators Son- December 13th 2010

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Laurens isn't popular. Alexander is protective and Angry TM. Hercules just wants everyone to be okay.
> 
> I first posted this the day after historical Laurens' death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobia, transphobia.

Alexander was pissed off. While that in itself was fairly normal, what wasn’t normal was every other queer kid in the school getting pissed off too. Still, Herc guessed it was only natural considering what one particularly… conservative senator had said on national TV last night. Enthusiastic support for that bathroom bill was one thing, nobody really expected anything else, but almost directly attacking a student at their school? Those kind of words stuck with a person, and not in a good way. Herc knew that Laf had to be feeling it the worst of all, seeing as the Senator’s words had been directed at them. Senator Henry Laurens had always been a rather reviled figure in the Washington house, but last night had tipped things over the edge.

Laf, who Herc hadn’t expected to see in school that day, continued to surprise him by not only being there, but also appearing to to not be affected in the slightest. Alexander, on the other hand, seemed to be angry enough for the both of them. Another person who Herc hadn’t expected to see, though not for the same reason as everyone else, was the Senator’s son. For the past week, Herc had noticed his fellow sophomore get even quieter, spending the last class of the day, Biology, which Herc shared with him and was a class he generally looked like he was enjoying, in a state of dazed dread. The previous day had been the worse yet, as he looked like he was on the verge of crying for the last half an hour.

And now this. Alexander was pissed off, Lafayette was pretending to be fine, and John Laurens was wisely keeping his head down, avoiding the dirty looks being thrown at him. Herc found himself wishing that he could help, but keeping Laf close to him while listening to Alexander rant was all he could do. He promised himself that he keep as close an eye on John as he could. Maybe in Biology he could ask if he was okay, but until then he would have to put the matter out of his mind.

No-one wanted to antagonise John outright, fearing his father’s influence. Politicians children knew the game they were born to play all their lives, and knew it well. Always be polite to others parents, lest their own parents be attacked for the slight; never attack other politicians children, for the same reason; and keep all real, true opinions to themselves unless those opinions were the norm. Alexander Hamilton was not a politician’s child, and therefore had nothing to lose. It happened too quickly for Hercules to put a stop to. One moment, Alexander was by his side, and the next…

“I bet you’re happy.”

For a second, Herc thought Alexander was talking to him, but then he saw John Laurens on the other side of the hall, most likely thinking the exact same thing as Herc in that moment.

Oh shit.

Herc saw the mask go up, saw John’s spine straighten, his expression turn blank. He saw the rabbit-in-the-headlights fear get covered up in seconds.

“You think I don’t see the looks you give Laf?” Alexander snarled, anger rolling off him in waves. So he had noticed John looking in their direction, but not the expression on his face as he did so. Herc was now sure that he was the only one who saw the longing, the regret. The longing for what? Herc didn’t know.

John didn’t respond in the millisecond Alexander paused for, which only incensed him further.

“I bet you told your father all about them, didn’t you? Couldn’t stand to be in the same school as them, could you?”

John’s mask was slipping as he leaned away from Alexander. A quick glance at Laf showed that they were torn. Perhaps they remembered that John had never actually said anything against anyone. Herc had to do something, but stopping Alexander would likely make the freshman turn on him, and he needed Alexander’s trust to keep the kid out of trouble. There was only one way he could spin this, and it pained him to do it, but it had to be done.

“Alexander!” He strode across the hall, gently catching his friend’s arm and pulling him away. “Let it go, he’s not worth it.”

Herc was sure that he was the only one who saw John’s aborted flinch.

“I’m not done with him, Hercules!” Alexander protested, despite the fact that he was being physically dragged away.

“Yes you are.”

“It’s his fault his father said all that shit about Laf!” Alexander struggled to pull away, but Herc held him tight. Only when they were outside, on the front steps of the school, did he let go.

“You don’t know that.” Herc reminded his angry friend, attempting to be the voice of reason. The door banged open, and Laf practically flew down the steps, engulfing Alexander in a hug. Herc sighed internally, Laf was bound to end up encouraging Alexander to yell at more people, no matter what they said.

“Alexander, please don’t fight people, S'il vous plaît!” They begged. “You could get hurt one of these days, and what would I do without you here, hmm?”

“I’ll fight anyone for you, Laf.” Alexander replied, holding Laf close.

And that was that. Alexander would not be budged from his opinion, and he glared at Herc for the rest of the day. John Laurens was nowhere to be seen. That is, until several hours later, when Herc had thought he was the only one left in the building who wasn’t a teacher.. He had a habit of staying behind after school to work on his projects, taking over either the art room or one of the Home Ec rooms. There was usually a teacher or two staying late who liked him, and more importantly, trusted him not to break anything.

Herc had gotten the feeling that Laf and Alexander needed some alone time; maybe Laf could convince their foster brother (and guard dog) to lay off of John, and Lord knew Herc needed some alone time. Speaking of John… Herc would recognise the fluffy ponytail that came into view as he rounded a corner anywhere, after spending the past week looking for it at every opportunity.

John was slumped on the floor, leaning heavily against a locker, his eyes closed. Herc almost didn’t want to disturb him (the poor guy looked exhausted), but this was his chance to talk to him with no chance of Alexander coming across them.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked.

John’s head shot up, his mask slamming into place.

“Fine. Why do you wanna know?”

Herc shrugged, approaching carefully. “Just noticed you weren’t looking so good. Alexander is… He can be pretty mean when someone he likes is threatened.”

“I’d noticed.” John muttered. His head fell back and hit the locker with a clang.

“Mind if I sit?” Herc asked, fully prepared to leave and try again another day if John wanted him gone. Pushing the kid’s boundaries too much would just make him pull away, but John’s expression made him hopeful. It was wary, yes, and more than a little bit confused, but not scared.

“Sure, I guess.” John apathetically shrugged one shoulder. “If you want.”

Herc made sure to look as nonthreatening as possible as he sat on the floor, about half a locker away from John, who was staring at the ceiling now.

“I’m sorry about Alexander. He’s really protective of Lafayette.”

“Good.” John said quietly. “They need someone to be protective of them.”

Herc noted the correct pronouns, tucking the information away in some corner of his mind. He was pretty sure John didn’t think he had noticed the distinction he had drawn, or maybe he hadn’t even realised that he’d drawn it. That it was good for Laf to have Alexander, not that Herc’s apology was the good thing. Normally, Herc got more than this to work with. Laf wasn’t the type to keep secrets. As for Alexander, Herc was generally able to gain something from his streams of bullshit. John, conversely, didn’t say anything past what he absolutely had to, which wasn’t anything like what Herc was used to. Silence reigned for a full minute while Herc’s ass got colder and colder, until John, still staring at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen, spoke.

“I don’t control what my father says.”

Herc nodded.

“I never thought you did.”

“Alexander does.” John’s voice was strained.

Herc laughed quietly, nodding ruefully.

“He does, but only because logical thinking isn’t his strong point when it comes to people he cares about. Laf means a lot to him, he doesn’t want them to get hurt.”

John finally tore his eyes away from the ceiling, drawing his legs up to his chest. He picked at a scab on the back of his hand, then glanced over at Herc, who looked steadily back.

“He hates me.” John said, resigned.

“He doesn’t.”

“He does.” John shook his head. “Most people do. Maybe I deserve it.”

“Well,” Herc mused. “Do you believe what your dad believes?”

There was a long silence, and Herc’s stomach sank even as he promised himself to still care about John, because the kid was miserable, and there was no way he was as bad as his father.

“I have to.” John mumbled eventually.

Reluctant belief, Herc could work with.

“How come?”

John sent him a look that could have killed. “You’re really asking me that?”

“Fair enough.” Herc shifted, the cold tile floor hurting his ass. “For the record, I don’t hate you.”

John snorted bitterly. “You’re the only one.”

“I bet I’m not. And even if I was,” Herc continued, cutting John off even as he opened his mouth. “It’s only ‘cause they don’t know you.”

“And you do?” John shot back, all venom and insurmountable defenses.

“I’d like to.” Herc shrugged.

“For real? Or do you just wanna give Alexander something else to use against me?”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Because you’re his friend?”

“Yeah, and I also know that he’s a little shit. You know what else I know?”

“What?” The word was a challenge, a dare, a frightened animal preparing to lash out as John tensed up.

“I know that you knew what your dad was gonna say. And I know that you didn’t want him to say it.” Herc dug his phone out of his pocket, opening up his contacts and bringing up his number, then handed it to John. “Here’s my number. Call me if you want, or I’m here most evenings if you don’t wanna do that.”

It took John a second to take the phone, while Herc tried to look as nonthreatening as he knew how. He watched as the other sophomore hesitantly reached out, deliberated for a second, and took the phone. John’s fingers were shaking slightly as he put Herc’s number in his phone, and as he handed Herc’s phone back to him, he froze, dropping it into Herc’s palm and standing abruptly.

“I gotta go.” He muttered, spinning around and almost running down the hall and around the corner, out of sight, leaving Hercules to stare after him and hope that he would call.


End file.
